


Does He Know?

by MissFiction



Series: Tumblr Works [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Dates, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Romance, Sappy, Valentine's Day, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-05-19 20:17:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5979781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissFiction/pseuds/MissFiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Valentine’s Day right around the corner I’m reminded of how very single I am. However, so are you and so is a handsome stranger who has been looking for a reason to ask you out. So when the opportunity presents itself… (x-post from tumblr).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

With Valentine's Day right around the corner there is always a simultaneous influx of that sickly sweet media that could almost make your teeth rot as soon as look at it. Pink and red hearts everywhere. Couples around every corner, no matter where you turned. At first it left you feeling a little bitter, but over time you have just come to accept it. It was something you had come to expect of the season, and not necessarily something you really minded anymore because it ultimately had very little impact on you. Until... all of a sudden, it did.

It has to be the most cliché thing that has ever happened to you in your entire life. It's ridiculous. It is completely unbelievable and you just know that you're going to have one hell of a time convincing your friends of the events that has just transpired. Yet here you were, in the middle of it all, staring this blue-eyed man right in the face while he grinned back at you unflinchingly. Did he have no shame? Was he aware that what he was doing had to be just about the corniest move on the planet? There's no way he could know. The accent did make him sound distinctly foreign, so maybe it was for real and he had no idea how embarrassed you were on his behalf right now.

Seriously. What kind of man walks up to a girl and asks her to pretend to date him? In broad daylight, the middle of the work week, just a few days before the most romantic holiday of the year, _in a coffee shop for fuck's sake!_ This was definitely some kind of dream, you _had_ been working way too hard lately. Maybe all of that overtime was finally getting to you and manifesting itself in elaborate sensory and tactile hallucinations. Actually, scratch that. That was definitely not a great conclusion to be drawing about yourself either.

He had a mop of fine blonde hair that made him look a little bit wild, but he seemed sane enough on the surface. In control of all of his faculties, anyways. The man had an aloof smile on his lips, which was probably what was throwing you off the most. It did not really feel like he was hitting on you, but then why else would he have approached you like _that?_ This was insanity, what on Earth were you supposed to think?

You realize that you still have not said anything yet when he clears his throat.

“Well?” he asks expectantly, having the audacity to sound a little impatient. He gives you a once over and seems to relax somewhat, as though he might have realized how startled you are. You note that there did seem to be a certain amount of tension about him, but you didn't notice it until it was gone. The strange man also manages to muster up the decency to look a little bit sheepish over your stunned silence. You had been staring right through him for at least a solid minute now, your mouth slightly askew, saying nothing at all as you fought to find you voice.

Even when you had sort of processed what he has just said to you, throwing himself in the seat across from you with that disarming grin (it echoes against the confines of your skull– _Forgive me_. _My sister will not stop hassling me to find a companion for this holiday, would you please pretend to date me for one night, beautiful printcessa?_ )... you feel extremely cautious. You still don't hurry to answer him, despite his burning gaze. Almost automatically you look around the room, subconsciously searching for the hidden cameras. Had you somehow stumbled your way onto to some kind of weird prank show? Was one of your friends paying this guy to fuck with you? All you see is a regular, average coffee shop. You can hear the coffee grinder somewhere behind the counter, the bell above the door rings as another customer walks in, you can hear the quiet low-toned voices of the women two tables down who are completely immersed in their conversation. Nothing seems out of place. Almost chuckling to yourself you glance down into your half-drunken mug of coffee and wonder if your barista put anything different into it today.

Sensing that nothing seems to be amiss, you turn your attention back to the blond man in front of you and blink owlishly. The man is still studying you rather closely and the attention makes you nervous, but he says nothing more. He puts up a good front at patience for such a weird guy, you'll give him that much.

“I'm sorry,” you finally say quietly, lowering your tone and leaning in closer so that he will have to do the same in order to hear you. “It sounded like you just asked me to pretend to date you. To make your sister... _happy_? Am I hearing you correctly? No, no. Don't be crazy, no one would do that. Walk up to a complete stranger and ask them to be their pretend girlfriend for 'just one night'? Before even asking their name! That kind of thing doesn't happen in real life right? No, this is New York, not a YA novel.” You're talking to yourself more than you are to him by the end of your statement, maybe you look a little more crazy than he did now, but your mouth quickly dries out so you force yourself to cease your babbling for another moment and take a swig of your coffee.

The man looks very amused by your comments. The corner of his lips twitch; he seems to be trying very hard not to laugh at you. He leans back in his chair, bracing his foot across the underside of the table near where yours rests. You shrink away from him automatically when his foot accidentally taps against yours, making yourself smaller in your seat. His eyes seem to read you like a book when he notices you shrinking away. The blond looks vaguely concerned by the way you're looking at him. so you suppose he is trying to take a new approach when he starts to explain himself in a little more detail. You try to compose your facial muscles into something a little less stricken.

“Look, I'm sorry, I did not mean to frighten you, pretty _myshka_. My sister has been on me to meet people again ever since I... got back.” He leans over onto the table again, resting his elbows and holding his arms wide. You furrow your eyebrows at him over the sudden defensively vague tone, but he doesn't pause long enough to let you ask the questions that burn on the tip of your curious tongue. “ _You_ are a very pretty woman, and I see you here every week so I thought... and all you would have to do is come back with me, spend a little time in my room, and then you can go home. You'll never have to see me again after that, if you do not wish to. ”

 _His room!?_ “ Alright, I don't know who the hell you think you are–” you snap, bristling as the implications with warming cheeks.

“No, no! That's not what I was proposing at all, _myshka._ Just come and watch some movie with me or something, so my sister will not hassle me so for a little while. I didn't mean anything else. I swear to you.” He draws a small 'x' over his heart with a serious look on his face. Since he actually seemed genuinely concerned that he had offended you, you decided to relax again.

After staring at him for another long few seconds, noting the pleading look in his eyes and how tense his shoulders are again, as if he was braced to run in an instant's notice, you decided he seemed legitimate. You extended your hand across the table and finally introduced yourself.

“If we're going to do this we should probably at least know each other's names, or we're not gonna be very convincing,” you pointed out. The man repeated you name, smiling, looking so pleased with himself it makes you want to laugh. His lips move slowly as though he were tasting every syllable on his tongue, the accent warping its assonance delicately. You catch yourself wondering if those lips would feel quite as soft as they look– _Whoa._

 _No._ Back up. Dangerous thought, do _not_ go there.

This was all pretend, you happened to be a convenient female around his age. It would be foolish to start thinking this was about anything more. But gods, it was so easy to get carried away when this handsome stranger is looking at you like that... Who was the ridiculous one now?

“It is a pleasure to meet you, sweetheart,” he said smoothly, easily transitioning into a soft, affectionate tone that raises goosebumps along your spine. You can't help but laugh quietly to yourself at the complete absurdity of this whole situation, trying to cover the way your heart beats painfully against your ribs for a moment. “I am Pietro. I look forward to dating you for the next few hours. Perhaps longer, if you decide you have had a good time.”

He winks. You melt.

Oh gods. This was definitely the strangest thing that had happened to you all week. Perhaps all month. Since when did strange men walk up to women they didn't know and ask them to play pretend above the age of like seven? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

But when Pietro keeps holding on to your hand and beaming at you as though he is actually thoroughly pleased that you have accepted... you start to feel that nagging voice of reason at the back of your mind grow a little softer until you can barely hear it anymore at all.

When was the last time you did something a little bit crazy? Maybe this would make for a fun day after all, watching movies with a handsome stranger for a few hours and then being on your merry way did not sound all that bad.

What could go wrong?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a goofy lil' warm up thing. I thought I could get away with somethin' goofy and sweet since Valentine's is almost here. ;) Any comments are appreciated!
> 
> Can also be found on my writing blog (ms-fiction.tumblr.com)!


	2. Chapter 2

Pietro is quick to usher you out of the building, almost like he's eager to begin his little plan. It does little to quell the suddenly raging nerves in your chest, but it does make you laugh quietly to yourself. That only seems to make him more enthused, like he's conspiring with you on a private joke, and that's so exciting he can't contain himself. He wraps the scone you've left sitting on the table in a napkin, and then waits impatiently while you slowly put your things into your bag. The longer you take, the more looks like he can't wait to get going. You may have gone just a little slower to test how patient he can be, but he is clearly doing the best he can to _wait._

When you're finished he simply takes your hand in his without any fuss and leads you out the door. Like it's the most natural thing in the world. It occurs to you that you're not sure anyone has ever wanted to hold your hand while you walked together. Huh.

He chats amicably with the sweetest, goofiest grin on his face that you've ever seen. You learn that his sister's name is Wanda, they've come to New York from their home country Sokovia, and you learn that you'll probably have to walk around the common room of a shared living space for a little while before you're able to escape and hang out in his room. He admits that he isn't sure which of his many roommates will be present, but he doesn't think you'll have too much trouble with them.

You're still floored by what's taking place. Alright, so he needs to get some nosey family off his back, okay. That's easy enough to follow. But didn't he have any actual friends of his own that could pull this off more effectively? A girl he actually _knew_ to play the role of pretend-girlfriend could probably more convincing than a stranger from a coffeeshop. It was just so strange, wasn't it? Why would he have approached _you,_ of _all people?_

It makes those stupid butterflies flutter around again. They don't know any better.

You only begin to notice how much your palms are sweating after Pietro has been holding your hand for a few minutes, out on the sidewalk and walking briskly by your side. With a sharp breath you immediately snapped your hand back against your own thigh, trying to quietly dry both of them against the fabric covering your legs. Your heart is starting to hammer, and your stomach twists around itself with embarrassment. While you know it's ridiculous to get so worked up about all of this, you still can't shake the feeling.

Pietro looks calm. You should try harder to emulate that attitude. You have to stop looking for deeper meaning where there isn't any.

But when you finish furiously scrubbing your hands he easily reaches over takes it back into his without even pausing in his thought, taking it before you can shove the offending sweaty appendage into a pocket.

“So,” he says, knocking you out of your thoughts, “what vital details do I need to know about you to play a convincing loving boyfriend?”

Your heart thumps painfully in your chest, like you're losing your breath. _Shit._ Does he know what he's making you feel? He's got to know. Does he have any idea how hard he's making this for you right now? Nevermind.

You contemplate the question for a moment before realizing that you have no idea what to say. Why is it always so hard to talk about yourself? “I don't know. Uhm. I wouldn't know where to... There's not really that much to... I mean, they probably won't ask about me... right?” there's a long pause that follows, you worry that you've said something terrible.

You keep your gaze down and trained on the pavement as you walk, your arm tugging when you fail to notice Pietro has stopped walking beside you. When you turn back to look at him, he uses your tightly connected hands to draw you back to his chest, against the flow of the other walkers. His opposite hand lands on your hip where he carefully but quickly pushes you against the building to your right. The other hand lets yours go so it can hold both of your hips against the wall. Your palms immediately fly to his shoulders to hold him off when he leans in too close and hovers his mouth above yours. His breath smells sweet, his mouth twisted slightly in a playful smirk at what must be the most dumbfounded expression you've ever worn.

You barely have the capacity to notice the passersby giving the two of you interested sidelong glances with his electric gaze seemingly staring into you.

You search for words but your heart is in your throat, blocking off all sound.

How is he not embarrassed by the scene he's causing?

A few people have paused around you now, you can see a few young girls snapping pictures with their cell phones and giggling excitedly over Pietro's shoulder, but once again he fails to display the capacity for shame by completely ignoring them. His forefinger and thumb touch your chin so you're forced to look at him again. You contemplate averting your gaze, but when he presses closer to you by another half an inch you focus on watching him and bracing your palms more solidly against his shoulders.

“Do you not think you are an interesting woman, my pretty _myshka?_ ” He clicks his tongue. He raises his arm to block your face a little from prying cameras when he notices you're still very concerned with the crowd the pair of you are inspiring. His voice is so soft, so low that it goes straight through you; you're shivering despite the warmth of midday. Before you know it he has angled his mouth over yours but stops just before he's pressed a single gentle kiss to your lips. “You mustn't worry, sweet girl. I find you very, _very_ interesting. I hope you will tell me everything there is to know. Not now, perhaps, but eventually. It would be better to talk while we're alone later, yes? Come on.”

Suddenly he's let you go and you can breathe again, but your knees wobble and there was a very real possibility that you would have slid down the wall if he hadn't taken your hand and tugged you after him again.

_What on earth was that whole display!?_

The crowd around you breaks apart to let Pietro lead you through. You find that you're shocked by the fact that so many people are so interested in your little display. As you stare at the back of his head you have to wonder if that was just a part of this little game you're playing, or if there was an inkling of truth in that hot gaze he had raked down your body, and the gentle tone of voice he used to reassure you.

o O o O o

Eventually he did manage to coax some of the details out of you. The rapt attention Pietro gave you while you spoke eventually made you want to share more, maybe subconsciously to keep his attention like that. Few people are so attentive when you speak to them like this. Not to mention his hands were always touching you in some way, and in a strange way the whole thing started to feel real. The guy was a pretty good actor, you would have to give him that. It seemed like people were still watching you as you walked along the street. It was certainly suspicious, but Pietro didn't indicate that he thought anything was amiss.

Regardless, he had been true to his word, he was certainly interested in all the details. You chalked that up to wanting to be convincing in this little performance you were planning. The subtle ways that he showed you that he wanted to know more about some things, like the slight inclination of his head in your direction as you spoke or the way he would gently prompt you when you would get self-conscious that you were talking too much and lapse into silence. Even more, you were excited to ask him more questions in return. By the end of your walk you felt like you were actually having fun just talking, even if it would all be over tomorrow.

The way he talks about his sister makes you feel much more sympathetic towards his situation; it seems like he truly wants her to stop worrying about him so much. He still refused to tell you about what he meant about _just getting back_ when you prodded him a little about it, so you figured it must have been some kind of personal trip. Either way, you could see that his sister was the most important thing to him. Even with the strange secrecy, you the obvious love he regarded her with still made you want to try and help him.

Eventually Pietro paused outside the door of a massive building, suddenly pulling you under the awning before you could get a good look at the building. It must have been some kind of enormous apartment complex. That would explain the multiple roommates, anyway.

Before you can try and peer through the glass of the door and get a look at the lobby, curiosity to see what kind of place he lives in getting the better of you and causing you to miss whatever he had just said, Pietro places both of his hands on your shoulders. You give him your attention again, ignoring the way your skin gets warm when he looks at you with those ridiculously blue eyes again.

“Are you ready?” he asks you again. His hands drift up and down your biceps absentmindedly as his eyes search yours for nerves that you suddenly don't feel too strongly anymore. “We could do another loop around the block. If you need it. Maybe this is not as good an idea as I thought. We should... talk more first. Just you and I.” He suddenly looks unsure and almost insecure. It was enough to make you laugh out loud. That was exactly how you had been feeling this whole time, and _now_ his nerves catch up with him? That has to be some special kind of dramatic irony right there.

“It's okay,” you chuckle, placing your hand on top of his where it rests on your shoulder. “I think I'm probably as ready as I'll ever be.”

He still looks doubtful, pulling a full lip into his mouth and pulling at it with his teeth. “Are you certain? My sister has... a way of knowing. I think we can pull it off, as long as we don't give them any reason to be suspicious. We will be sure not to spend too much time around the whole team, but I just...” He trailed off suddenly, his brow furrowing. He takes his hands away from you and crosses his arms.

You shrug your shoulders and take a calming breath, “I mean, it's just this once, right?”

Pietro doesn't say anything to that. He gets a strange look in his eyes again.

“Let's just go in. I'm sort of excited to meet your sister, in a weird way, I think. You clearly think very highly of her, this isn't the kind of weird act you put on for just anybody. Honestly, I almost feel like I really want her to like me, too.”

That comment causes the biggest grin you've seen on his face yet, his eyes kind of sparkle, and the whole expression makes your insides rattle. You blush and look away, prompting Pietro to take your hand, pull you close, and wrap an arm around you.

“Confidence looks very good on you, _myshka,_ ” he breathes into your ear. “Perhaps I have misjudged you. You may prove to be a _l'vitsa_ before the night is through.”

Without further ado he pushes the wide glass doors open and gestures for you to go ahead of him. You do, and are absolutely stunned by both the size (and extremely obvious cost) of the room. Everything is a clean white or steel colour, and there is not a spec of dirt anywhere to be seen. Your mind recalls the laundry you left on the floor of your own apartment, and the comparison makes you laugh out loud. You do a half turn to look back at Pietro and gape in amazement at his living conditions _literally from just seeing the doorway!_ But as soon as you take a step backwards you knock into someone. Pietro gets this surprised look on his face, but you feel like you've run into a brick wall.

You whirl around again to apologize to the person, but the words barely register in your mind before _Steve fucking Rogers_ has a hand laid on your back to steady you and is already apologizing first. Your lips move but no sound comes out, so you sort of end up with this fish-out-of-water look of shock on your face. Pietro lurches forward and replaces Steve's hand around your waist, offering a reassuring squeeze that masks his attempt to produce some distance.

“Ah. I see you recognize the Captain, no?” he smiles, though that worried furrow has returned to his forehead.

You're still too surprised to respond so you simply nod your head. Captain America. Steve Rogers, THE Captain America is here standing right in front of you. You walked into him. He was extending his hand towards you again, this time for your to shake rather than to hold you up. “I'm so sorry,” you croak, “I wasn't looking where I was going. It is _so_ nice to meet you!” Steve goes a little red around the collar but shakes your hand firmly, having the _audacity_ to look away almost shyly while he does so. You could shout.

“It's nice to meet you, Miss...?”

You give him your name, not letting go of his hand.

“Oh, so you must be the lovely lady Pietro has been raving about?”

Ah. So this has been an ongoing plan. Well, it's good to know that you didn't get roped into some silly prank that Maximoff had cooked up and decided to execute over the course of one afternoon. At least he had been laying down some of the ground work before bringing an actual woman home with him to meet literal superheroes and his family.

“Well,” you say with a soft, flirting smile, “I certainly hope that's me!” Pietro chuckles softly over your shoulder, his warm fingers drumming possessively against your waist before pulling you flush against his side again.

“Yes,” murmurs Pietro affectedly, in an amorous tone that you can't believe is improvised, “she is the one.” His lips press just below your ear before he speaks with that honey-sweet warm tone again, telling you that you'll be alone soon. You can't help the blush that immediately flourishes over your cheeks; you let Steve's hand drop right away and jam your hands into your pockets. Pietro winks at you before asking Steve where he might find his sister.

Steve excuses himself shortly after the exchange, face a little bit flushed as well, and Pietro seems much more eager to get you inside the building. You were a participant in making Captain America blush today. This day was literally insane.

“You failed to mention that you live with Avengers,” you whisper once Steve is out of earshot. You enter the elevator together and once again marvel at the ridiculous number of buttons that indicate the size of this building. Pietro picks one of the higher floors before turning to you with a sheepish grin.

It certainly made sense, if he was living with all these heroes, that they would live in this crazy expensive building. Should you assume that this was actually the famous Stark tower that you were walking through right now? It's amazing but literally no one is going to believe you when you get home later.

“I hope you aren't angry with me for not telling, _myshka._ ”

You pause, before shaking your head. “No... I just... would have dressed nicer if I knew I was going to be meeting an Avenger today.”

Pietro's fingers pluck at the hem of your blouse, his eyes doing that thing again where he very obviously, hotly appraises your figure. Then he slowly raises his gaze back up to yours. The elevator feels extremely warm, especially when he uses his body to block yours against the door. “Nonsense. I think you look wonderful, regardless. You do not need to change a single thing to impress any of them.”

You blush, and you want to return the compliment, but one piece of what he says sticks in your mind. “Wait... _Them_?” you ask timidly.

Suddenly the doors open behind you and you're falling backwards over nothing. In what feels like less than a second the experience of trepidation is replaced by sweet-smelling safety in a pair of very secure arms that hold you up almost parallel to the floor. Silver tendrils float around you and evaporate into nothing. When your tense body relaxes your head drops and you find yourself met with the gazes of several other people, all with their eyes trained on you. Several other Avengers, to be specific.

“Oh. Hello?” you squeak. Your hand anxiously taps Pietro rapidly on the chest. He lifts you just as easily and holds you up against him before greeting the rest of the group.

“Hello, everyone! I've finally convinced [Y/N] to come and meet you all!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this is a series now. As always, comments and kudos are very much appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

It would be accurate to say you felt a little like you had been thrown into the shark tank.

You're vaguely aware of Pietro's lips meeting your cheek after he presents you but you don't even have the presence of mind to blush. Instead you've got this wide-eyed star-struck deer-in-the-headlights look on your face, and all of the Avengers are looking back at you. Your “boyfriend” puts his hand on the small of your back and guides you further into the room. It startles you, you nearly jump out of your skin.

How the hell are you supposed to last an afternoon like this? He should have prepared you better! Everything he said to you in the elevator not two minutes ago flew out of your mind, all you could focus on was trying not to embarrass yourself too badly.

It's too late to say anything now, so you catch Pietro's eye as he hands you off and tucks his hands into his pockets. He looks cheeky, so you only shoot him a silent glare. He runs his tongue over his teeth and winks down at you. You wonder who was watching. Then he rolls his shoulders in what might be a subtle shrug. You could swear. It was like he wanted this all along, you out of your depth. Honestly, what a weird prank to play on a stranger.

“So _this_ is the lovely lady you've been telling us so much about!” chuckles Tony Stark, approaching you with his hand extended. “I can see why he was so excited to show you off now. Made sure we were all going to be here to meet this lovely girl of his. No offence, but we all thought you were fake, the way he raved about you but could never seen to get you to stop by.” You sputter, blushing heavily. Both of his hands wrap around yours and shake firmly.

“Really, now,” you laugh, but it clearly sounds forced. You clear your throat. Pietro intervenes quickly at the awkward sound, pulling you back into his side, but you're already trying to do damage control. Your hand pats Pietro's bicep reassuringly. “I work full time, hard to match up times I guess... Aha, sorry, I must sound so nervous... H-he told me he lived with a few people, but he didn't say his roommates were...?”

“So handsome?” supplies Tony. “Amazing? Famous? ... Tall?”

You take the jab at your height in stride, appreciating that he was helping integrate you into the group with his sense of humour.

“Yeah, all of that actually,” you agree. “Sorry, this is actually a little crazy for me. I never expected to meet any of you. I literally bumped into Captain America in the lobby, that's not something I was expecting to do today.”

“Let me introduce you to everyone–” begins Pietro, but you cut him off with a smile.

“Oh, no need, _everyone_ knows who all of you are!” you say, and you see a few smiles quirk up at you and a ripple of quiet laughter. You go around the couch, “Tony, of course. Nastasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Thor, Bruce Banner...”

Pietro is beaming as the rest of the team begins to rise and shake your hand one by one. All of these Avengers that you recognize from the news and tabloid magazines, shaking your hand! But then you get to one face you don't recognize at all. The woman had to be around your age, perhaps a little bit older, but she had the eyes of someone wise beyond her years. You wrack your brain for a name and silently wish you had just let Pietro introduce everyone instead. It was mortifying to leave one person out. You hoped the dilemma wasn't obvious on your expression.

The girl suddenly stood up, but there was a careful look in her eyes. Her red lips were slightly pursed as her eyes swept you up and down. Your face grew hot under the intensity of her gaze. You glanced back at Pietro for help, and he looked about as nervous as you felt with the girl looking you over so closely.

“This is my sister,” murmured Pietro quietly, squeezing your shoulder. “Wanda.”

“Oh!” you gasp theatrically, slapping the smile back onto your face and clapping your hands together. “It's so nice to finally meet you! Pietro speaks so fondly of you, I've been looking forward to meeting you for a while now. He seems to think you and I will be fast friends, if you manage to put up with me for longer than five minutes.”

Wanda stares back at you coolly for several long moments before her tense expression melts into a little smile. She takes your hand gently in hers. Her fingertips are cold in your warm palms. “I hope we get along very well then,” she laughs in a sweet accented tone. It's a soft sound that reminds you very much of her brother. They have the same soft look in their eyes. It's easy to see how the two are related. “I have a number of fantastic, very embarrassing, stories about my brother. I will have to share them all with you, so you can keep him in line.” She winks, and you laugh easily, some of the weight in your chest finally melting away again. Wanda seems lovely and sweet, and the rest of the Avengers are surprisingly easy to talk to.

Pietro groans just behind you, taking your hand and pressing his lips to it. “Don't listen to her, _myshka_. She only wants to soil my reputation!” he says imploringly, but he quickly dives past you, catching his sister off guard, and ruffles her hair mercilessly.

 _This is amazing,_ you catch yourself thinking. You find that you're very pleased that you decided to go through with this weird little plan. Conversation starts to flow easily. You sit on the couch next to Pietro where he eventually flops and toss your legs over his lap. Pietro shoots you a thankful look, his eyes warm when they meet yours. Every so often he leans forward and whispers private jokes and comments into your ear; it feels so intimate when his lips brush against the shell of your ear so secretively. His fingers massage your calves absentmindedly, as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

If nothing else, this would most certainly prove to make for a memorable afternoon. You were going to remember it for a long time, even after Pietro was done with you.

... _Ouch_.

You knew this was all a game of pretend for an afternoon going in, that this was all going to stop when Pietro let you go home that night. He would probably talk about you a couple times more, sure, to keep anyone from getting suspicious, and then he would tell them that you had broken up. You briefly wondered what the story would be. Would he paint you in an unflattering light, tell everybody that it had turned out you were crazy? Or would he indicate an amicable break-up, perhaps the two of you simply realized you wanted different things?

You shook your head. It certainly didn't _really_ matter anyway, not to you. It's not like you were _ever_ going to see members of the Avengers again in your boring everyday life.

Pietro had chosen you by chance.

You were only playing this part _today_ and then it was back to your regularly scheduled program. That had always been enough for you before.

So why did it make you so sad now?

You realized that you hadn't said anything in a while, and tried to dive back into the conversation. Bruce was explaining a concept of some sort to Thor, and the god was nodding with a very focused look on his face. Pietro was telling his sister that you and he were going to take off soon, and she looked so disappointed. Her eyes flickered to your face, as if begging you to stay. You were thrown off by the emotion in her eyes, it seemed extremely intense for the situation. Sure, she wouldn't be seeing you again after this, but it's not like she could possibly know that. You coaxed the expression on your face into something a little brighter than the pensive frown it had fallen to.

“We've only just gotten to meet her, though! You can't seriously be telling me you're going to hide her away from us again already! You've been telling me about her for _literal_ weeks and now suddenly you're in this big hurry to leave? You don't want to go yet, do you?” demanded Wanda, staring right at you.

“I...” you start nervously, turning to Pietro for help. He flounders too. It's obvious that he has a very hard time saying no to his sister, you can't help but think it's a little sweet. You decide to be honest. “Well, no, I don't really want to go, but...”

“Then it's settled,” Natasha glides in smoothly. “Cancel whatever you lovebirds were going to do tonight, Speedy. She can come out with us to the party tonight instead.”

“P-p-party...? N-no, no I'm not... I'm not dressed for a party! No, thank you for the offer but no thank you,” you turn to Pietro, trying to backpedal and stick to your original plan. “You can go, though, sweetheart. I'll help you get ready, and then I'll...”

You're cut off by Wanda reaching over the small table in front of the couch where you're still perched and taking both of your hands into hers again. They're very hot this time.

“Please come with us,” she begs, “It'll be so nice to have someone my own age at one of these things for once and this has been really nice. I would love to get to know my brother's girlfriend better.”

“Well...”

“ _Printsessa_ , do not let her pressure you into anything you do not want to do.” the voice belonging to Pietro is firm this time. You can practically feel the tension radiating off of him, the grip on your legs is tight, holding you possessively against him. This also prevented you from swinging your legs back over and scampering away. Your head is spinning.

Does he want you to go or does he want you to stay?

Does he even know?

You chew your lip pensively. You don't want this all to be over yet either. “I... I wouldn't mind coming with you. If I'm not intruding. I just need to go home and change, and then...”

“Nonsense! You can just borrow something of mine. Follow me.” She takes you by the hand once again and pulls you up. Pietro's hand lingers until you're out of his reach, then he springs up and grabs Wanda's upper arm to stop her from whisking you away.

He leans in to whisper in her ear; you have to strain to hear. You're pretty sure he hissed the words 'stay out of her head' but that didn't... and you remember that he and his sister both must have unique powers, too.

Pietro's gaze is firm, unquestionable. Wanda stares back with equal impassivity, an innocent expression composed on her face. An unstoppable force meets an immovable object. Suddenly you don't feel as comfortable as you did before, but any excuse to keep hanging out with Pietro for a couple more hours was good enough.

o O o O o

It wasn't long before Wanda had dressed you up, easing your insecurity when she caught you staring at yourself in the mirror. She told you Pietro would flip when he saw you in the crop-top and skirt combination so you rolled with it, but your hands kept pulling at the bottom of the material, as though trying to stretch it out.

“Best to highlight the features they like the most, and since my brother could barely keep his hands of your thighs earlier I think this is a good bet,” she teased. Wanda was kind and adorable once you got past the initial awkward phase, you found that you actually shared quite a few interests.

“Pietro has been talking about you non-stop for weeks, you know. He gets this soft look in his eyes. I'm really thankful he met you, I've been worried about him for a while now.” she tells you at one point, her eyes sparkling as she looks at you over your shoulder, straightening the necklace she draped around your throat. There's a stab of guilt in your chest, your smile falters.

Wanda misreads the situation. She looks you up and down before praising your appearance once again and putting the finishing touches on your hair and pushing it over your shoulders. “You look really lovely, you know.”

“Thank you,” you say automatically as you shrug a sheer sweater over your bare arms. “So do you. Red is definitely your colour. Someone to impress tonight?”

Wanda smiles to herself, smoothing the front of her dress. “There might be somebody..!”

In no time you're finished getting ready, pushed into a vehicle, and arriving at some magnificent venue in a part of the city you literally could not afford to eat dinner in, let alone spend a night partying in. But it seemed like these guys certainly spared no expense. Seriously, your friends were never going to believe this day in a million years. Neither would your co-workers. Oh, god, work tomorrow was going to be a nightmare after tonight...

 _After..._ No. No thinking about that.

You realized that Wanda had been saying something to you while you were completely zoned out. With minimal effort you put your real life out your mind and slipped back into the conversation unnoticed. Apparently the boys would be joining you shortly. Walking through the doors was like something straight out of a fairy tale, if fairy tales often featured house music and an upscale bar with four dozen different kinds of upscale alcohol you couldn't dream of placing the name to. As you lined up with Wanda and Natasha, whom you were sticking as close to as possible to avoid getting lost in the crowd, you were served almost immediately and put on Tony Stark's tab for the night without question.

It was almost like you were famous.

With a third or fourth drink in hand you began looking for the rest of your party, wondering where Pietro had gotten to. You tried to ask Wanda but she mimed towards her ears to show you she couldn't hear you with how close you were to the speakers. You waved your hand dismissively and stood up on your toes to try and spot him through the crowd for yourself.

You catch sight of that pale blond mop of hair first. He's so tall that it pokes out above the vast majority of the crowd. Pietro was standing across the room in a pair of slacks and a chrome-coloured shirt, nearby to Tony, Steve, and Thor. He was sweeping his eyes back and forth over the crowd too. There was a decidedly anxious look on his face, nursing his own beverage and running his free hand through his hair. When he happened to spot you his posture flooded with relief, the same hand that had been ruffling his already messy hair raised straight in the air. Without thinking about it and buzzing with the effects of the alcohol you had already consumed, you took off like a shot across the club. When you reach him you throw your arms around his shoulders. Your heels make you tall enough to easily nuzzle your nose into the skin just below his ear, so you do. He smells sharp and sweet, like cologne. Before you can resist, you give the skin a gentle little nibble.

“Whoa, there!” he laughs, hands resting around your waist and shoulders as he returns your hug. All of the liquid sloshes out of your glass as you tighten your grip around his shoulders. “My, my. _Myshka_ , you look amazing, I've never seen you wear anything like this before...” You giggle into his ear before you pull back and place your now-empty class on the bar behind him. “Let me get a good look at you, _printcessa_. If I thought you looked stunning before I had no idea what I was in for.” He purrs, spins you, the skirt swirls around your legs. That warm look in his eyes returns as he takes in your long legs and the strip of skin that shows from your stomach just beneath the fabric of your top. When he bites his lip you catch yourself wanting to bite it yourself.

However, you're dizzy and approaching drunk, and all you manage to do is stumble into him again. Your skin is hot, the air is warm, and your mind is vaguely fuzzy. All the pressure of pretending has eased off, you're left feeling like you just want to be affectionate while this lasts.

The party is wholly uneventful in the grand scheme of things. You spend most of the time floating between Pietro and Wanda, both of which seemed to be keeping a close eye on you. Pietro did not spend very much time on the dance floor with you, but when you lost him in the crowd you would just wander back to Wanda. She was excellent company, more than happy to dance. In different circumstances you couldn't help but feel like you could have been really good friends with her.

“I think maybe this should be your last drink,” says Wanda gently, pushing the glass she brought you closer to you over the surface of the table you had snagged. You smile dazedly, hoping she understands that you agree. You were honestly starting to feel sleepy rather than buzzed, a good sign to start winding down. What had this party even been for, honestly?

You tap your fingers against the table pensively. “I think I should go home,” you say eventually. “Have you seen Pietro? I want to say good night.”

Wanda is chewing her lip when she meets your eyes. They quickly dart away, somewhere over your shoulder. You look, but you don't see anything.

Suddenly Pietro is behind you, his hands rubbing your shoulders lightly. He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek, the side of your neck, your shoulder. “Are you ready to go home now, _myshka_?” He chuckles when you don't answer and instead just lean back into his warm body, using one arm to pull him down. “Come along then, love, lean on me and we'll go.”

You manage to wave to Wanda and thank you for a lovely time before you're swept away in a flurry of blue and silver tendrils. The wind rushes around your ears, but your head is cradled securely against his chest. You feel so warm, despite the cold wind. You feel like you're floating, though that might mostly be due to the alcohol. You think to yourself, this night might have made you the happiest you've been in months. Isn't it a shame it's all over now?

After he manages to wrangle the address from your uncooperative self, Pietro makes it back to your apartment in record time. He takes your keys from your pockets and sets you down so he can open the door, guiding you through the hallway and poking his head into all the rooms until he finds what he's looking for. Your bedroom is a damned mess, but as you stumble over the piles of clothes all over the floor in your heels, Pietro keeps a hold of you hand and waist.

“This has been really fun,” you say softly. “I'm glad I said yes to the weird boy asking me to play pretend with him today.”

Pietro smiles down at you, brushing the hair out of your face and taming the tangles that have developed. What a terribly goofy look you must have on your face to make him look at you like that. You swallow hard, turning your whole body towards him. You daringly decided to run your hands down his arms as you sat down on the edge of your bed. He held your hands tightly when yours reached his but he didn't make any move to get closer to you. You pulled.

He stayed firm.

“I'm very happy you said yes too, lovely _myshka_. Wanda was a big fan of yours, you were a hit. Not that I can blame her. I've been a very big fan of yours too...”

“How big a fan? Did I dazzle you with my incredible acting skills?”

He chuckles, “Yes, something like that, I'm sure.”

With every passing minute you feel your body get heavier with sleep. As you move to lie down you tug Pietro nearer to you. Physically you can feel him hesitate to be pulled along, but he raises one leg and puts his knee up on the bed so he's hovering over you. He takes his hands away and uses one to prop himself up and the other to rest against your rib cage. You suck in a breath and glance up at him through your eyelashes.

“If I asked you to, would you kiss me right now?” you whispered. The alcohol made you bold. Your rapid heartbeat made you quiet.

Instead of answering your question right away Pietro searches your eyes for something. You don't know if he finds it, but he does as you ask and leans in a little closer. Your breath mingles for the briefest of moments, he gently lays one single sweet kiss against your mouth (giving you a very small window of time to prod his plush bottom lip with the tip of your tongue), before he draws back quickly. Next thing you know you're drowsily wishing him a good night, and the soft lighting of your bedroom slips to blackness as you fall asleep.

o O o O o

When you wake up the next morning, you're alone in your bedroom. The same eggshell blue walls, the same white curtains, the same flower-pattern comforter on the bed. Yet, somehow, nothing _really_ feels the same at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited for some spelling errors I noticed!
> 
> Sorry it's been so long! I fell out of love with my concept for a little while, but I'm back in the swing. I hope you guys like it, sorry for the wait and happy reading! Let me know what you think, I hope to have the next part for y'all soon! <3


	4. Chapter 4

When you wake up, there are noises coming from somewhere inside your apartment. There’s also a headache buzzing just behind your eyes that almost blinds you against the morning, and embarrassment boils in your throat over the way you had managed to make a fool of yourself the night before. Practically _begging_ Pietro to kiss you like that, and for what? So you could extend the fantasy and pretend he was actually falling in love with you? _Please_ , you scoff and rub your eyes furiously, _love doesn’t happen like it does in the movies._

There’s a shattering sound somewhere off in the distance, followed by a soft male voice uttering what sounds like expletives in a language you can’t understand.

It _sounds_ like the clatter of dishes in the kitchen, but that doesn't make any sense. Your only roommate moved out more than three months ago, and no one else had a key since you had changed your locks just a couple of weeks ago... After a few moments, your brain catches up with your internal monologue. You sit up quickly– far too quickly, from the way your head throbs in protest– and shove the comforter that has tangled around your legs away from you.

The motion reminds you again of attempting to drunkenly seduce Pietro last night again, of the way he had pulled away from you so quickly, and you have to pause to wipe the embarrassed tears that briefly slip into your eyes.

What the _hell_ had you been thinking? Half asleep and intoxicated, practically dragging the poor guy into your bed as he obviously did his absolute best to keep you from touching him? Now that you were painfully sober, you had the presence of mind to feel completely and utterly ashamed of your behaviour. As you stand up, you sway on your feet slightly. Your head feels as though its been stuffed with cotton, your ears feel like they're full of water, and your nose is running like a faucet. It all combines into the perfect storm that completely throws you off your center of gravity.

Another clatter comes from just outside your bedroom door, closer than all the others.

_What the hell_ is _that?_

Did Pietro spend the night here after all? The thought sends a jolt through your queasy stomach. Were you so drunk that he felt like he needed to stay and make sure you didn't choke on your own vomit overnight or something? That was the only logical explanation. Not only did you sorely embarrass yourself and get completely rejected, you also forced the guy you practically pounced on to stay and take care of you?

_Son of a bitch_.

You wanted to just melt through the floor and disappear. As your bedroom door slowly creaks open, your heart stutters, staggers, stops. You move as quickly as you can, making a bee-line for the sanctuary of the en suite bathroom, and you literally slam the door shut behind you in your haste.

There’s a pause of silence, before you hear a familiar voice softly call “ _Myshka_?” from the other side of the door. His tone is gentle; it makes your stomach twist itself up in rows of tight little knots. There is no way he hadn’t seen you bolt for your bathroom door, but you stayed quiet and tried to pretend you weren’t there anyway. Your heart races a thousand miles per minute in your chest, pounding so hard that you almost can't breathe past it.

After catching your own reflection out of the corner of your eye, you realize that you're standing directly across from the mirror situated on the wall in front of your door. The reflective glass reveals a gremlin-woman staring back at you. There's eyeliner smeared all the way around your eyes, making you resemble a raccoon, if the raccoon had also just passed through the hot wax treatment at a car wash and its hair was left standing up in every possible direction. Bright red lipstick outlines your mouth, the clothes you borrowed from Wanda are crinkled and creased, and there are indents all over one side of your face where you had been lying dead to the world for hours on the pillow.

In other words, you were a tremendous hot mess, and Pietro is looking for you just outside the door, probably not looking half as bad as you felt. The thin wooden door suddenly made you feel very vulnerable, and it was not a feeling you liked at all.

You curse quietly to yourself as you lift the tap and collect some cold water in the palms of your hands to splash on your face. It dislodges some of the top layer of stuck-on goop, but does little to help the overall impression of _goblin_ that your collective appearance seems to hail. Scrubbing at the cosmetics smears them more than clears them.

 There's a soft knock on the door, two barely-there taps against the blue-painted wood.

“ _Myshka_? Are you alright in there?” that same soft voice asks. “Are you feeling sick?”

You don't reply right away, your brow furrowed in concentration as you try to make yourself remotely presentable. Nothing you do seems to help, and there’s no makeup remover to be found in the tiny apparently ill-stocked bathroom to be found. The blinding headache behind your eyes stings with the combination of force you’re applying to them in an attempt to clean them off, so much that there are tears spilling down your cheeks.

When you don’t say anything, he starts to sound a little worried. Pietro calls your name again, and when you still deliberately don't respond but the water continues to run into the sink, he mutters something in Russian to himself. “ _Myshka_ , I'm going to come in, alright...?”

“No!” you shout in protest, spinning quickly and grabbing the doorknob before Pietro can turn it, damning yourself for not having locked on your bathroom door when you first ran inside. You feel him try anyway. The metal slips between your wet hands, but your grip ultimately keeps him from entering. As soon as he lets go you do too, but you audibly click the lock into place.

There's several long moments of silence before you hear Pietro walk a few steps away from the door… but then he comes pacing right back. It sounds as though he leaned against the door frame heavily, and you feel even worse when you hear him sigh in frustration. You return to trying to scrub the obviously waterproof eyeliner away. Well, at least this was a testament to a good brand. They should slap your goblin face on an advertisement. If you ever got the chance to talk to Wanda again, you would definitely ask her where she buys her makeup.

“Would you please let me in? I just want to make sure you’re alright…” he says quietly.

“I'm... I'm okay. I'm fine,” you say, frazzled. “I don't need you to come in here, everything is fine, I'm just... I’m sorry.”

Pietro sighs on the other side of the door again, but he doesn't say anything back.

The silence is painful. There's some kind of unbearable tension the seems to seep like fog into your little bathroom from the cracks under the door. It’s truly the most terrible feeling. Yesterday you were his ‘girlfriend,’ and he was holding you close and making you feel things you hadn’t felt in a long time. Suddenly, today he's a stranger again. A stranger who is sitting outside your bathroom, waiting for... _something_. Last night was a reprieve from the boring humdrum of your everyday life, and in a weird way you are starting to resent Pietro for not having left it at that after all, the way you had anticipated. For not leaving last night when he reminded you that it was all a ruse. For not realizing that false expectations now would only make it hurt more.  

Eventually, you give up on the valiant effort of scrubbing your skin clean. It isn't doing any good anymore, and it's just making your skin look blotchy and red. Instead you decide to try dragging a brush through the mess on top of your head instead. The longer you stare at yourself, knowing that Pietro was probably sitting outside looking as handsome as he ever has, the angrier you begin to feel. Frustrated tears start to gather in the corners of your eyes. Hot embarrassment lodges itself in your stomach like a rock. It's impossible to hide the loud sniffle as you make very little progress on your hair as well. It all makes you feel so inadequate.

After a few long moments more, Pietro finally says, “Are you _sure_ you're alright? Take a minute, and then you can come out and talk to me, okay sweetheart?”

His voice is so soft, so sincere, so sweet. For some reason, as you stare at your increasingly inadequate face in the mirror, it fills you with a surprising amount of anger.

“ _I don't know what you're even still doing here!_ ” you snap. Once the bubble has burst, it’s impossible to restrain yourself. All of your frustration washes through you, and you just keep yelling. “This is _supposed_ to be over, isn’t it? You’re done with me now, so why the _hell_ are you still in my apartment?”

When Pietro doesn't say anything, you wonder if you've managed to offend him, to make him _want_ to disappear from your life the way he was supposed to. His footsteps move away from the door again, and you wonder if he is going to leave this time. Your hands clench around the edges of the sink, water still gushing down the drain, waiting.

He stomps away, but then he circles back around and gets as close as he can again. You can see the shadow of his feet under the door. The movement repeats two or three times before he stops, and you finally hear the bedroom door close again. You try to convince yourself that you don't care, that it doesn't matter, but your head just throbs. Tears keep dripping down your face, and before you know it you're actually crying before your headache forces you to stop. You take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet, and drink directly from the faucet since there are no paper cups left in the little dispenser.

It takes a little while longer before gather up the nerve to cautiously open the bathroom door, in case Pietro is still waiting there, just further away.

He's not.

It takes everything in you not to be disappointed. If you had been spoken to that way, especially after having taken care of the drunken stranger who was doing the yelling all night, there's no way in hell you would have stuck around either.

As you cross the room to get changed, you notice a little tray resting on the end on your bed. There's a little plate that has one single egg on it and two halves of a buttered slice of toast on it, which is probably just about all the food you had left in the apartment.

Jesus Christ, honestly, what kind of man was he? He stays overnight to make sure you’re okay, probably spent the night on your piece of shit uncomfortable couch, _and_ made you breakfast? Probably because he knew you would be too hungover to deal with cooking anything when you woke up. And you decided to repay him by yelling at him like that? Like he had inconvenienced you by keeping track of you all night, and not the other way around?

You quickly get changed into some sweatpants and one of your favourite graphic tees, which you spot lying at the foot of your bed. Before you forget, you also call sick into work. The residual sniffle from crying helps you play up the story of a sudden onset cold. It’s a lame excuse, but your boss doesn't pursue it any further so you figure you're in the clear for now.

A glance at the clock shows you that it's about noon, and you realize that you _are_ actually starving. You pick up a slice of toast from the tray, though you don't allow yourself to enjoy it too much since you were such a jerk to the kind boy who made it for you.

With a loud sigh, you pick up the rest of the plate and carry it with you to the living room to get a fork before it gets cold. There’s a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach that makes you want to just crawl back into bed, but getting something in your stomach might stop the squirming feeling that is left there.

As you walk through the door, you find Pietro has _not_ left, and is in fact sitting at the bar-style kitchen counter, looking down at some book he must have pulled off the shelf just behind him with his mouth set in a thin line. He looks about as surprised as you are when you gasp upon seeing him, but that warm look returns to his eyes instantaneously as he appraises you from a distance. For a few moments, you both just stand there. Staring.

“Didn’t I ask you to go home?” you say tensely, ignoring the swell of guilt and trying to maintain your distance.

Pietro nods, but stays seated in the bar chair. “I know you did, but I wasn’t going to leave until I was sure you were okay. You had a fair bit to drink last night, and I don’t know you well enough yet to know how you handle your liquor.”

“Sorry,” you reply immediately, averting your eyes.

By doing so, you completely miss the way Pietro regards you affectionately, mixed emotions on his face as he tries to figure out _why exactly_ you think you need to apologize to him. He also notices that your eyes are a still little glassy.

“Nothing to be sorry for at all,” he says casually, rising from his seat. His foot is tapping quietly against the tiled floor agitatedly. You quickly brush past him as he attempts to approach you, circling wide to get to the kitchen and avoid him getting too close to you at the same time. You feel inexplicably wary, considering how kind and affectionate he was towards you not even 24 hours ago. Pietro clicks his tongue against his cheek before biting down on it.

“You seem very skittish this morning? Myshka?” he says carefully. The lilt in his voice makes you think it is probably intended to be more of a question than a statement, but you ignore it and turn your back to him to look inside your empty fridge. “Look,” he tries again, “I know you’re not feeling well this morning, but I just… want to make you’re alright, before I…”

You slam the door, pinch the bridge of your nose, and turn toward him at last. “Before you _go?_ Look, I’m really sorry, okay? I’m not trying to be a bitch here, but I don’t know what you’re still doing here. I thought you wanted me to help you make your sister happy that you’re ‘getting out there again’–   _whatever_ that means– and then you were going to be done with me. And then I embarrass the hell out of myself getting wrapped up in it and kissing you yesterday, like you could _actually_ want me, and… The longer you stick around, being all nice and sweet to me, the harder it… the harder it is for me. Okay? So, I’m fine. Promise. Thank you so much for taking me out of the everyday humdrum for one night, but _please_ let me get back to reality.”

You don’t mean to, but by the end of your little speech your eyes are watering again. When you try to blink back the impending tears they just spill over, so you quickly try to turn and scrub them away, but Pietro’s hand catches your arm. In a split second, he has you enveloped in a tight embrace. Almost as quickly, he draws back and his palms land on your damp face. His thumbs brush away tears that keep falling.

“You see,” you say through a watery laugh, “this is exactly what I’m talking about!”

Pietro doesn’t crack a smile. Instead, he brushes loose strands of messy hair away from your face as his eyes dart back and forth between yours. He takes a deep breath and sighs, looking a little ashamed.

“Oh, _dorogaya,_ ” he murmurs, “I think I’ve made a real mess of things with you. I’m sorry, I have something to confess to you. I approached you under false pretenses.  You see, I had this… experience. I didn’t know if I was going to pull through, and all I could think was how I had passed by you everyday in the _damned_ coffee shop and _not once_ tried to talk to you. It was the push I needed to finally approach you. It wasn’t all a lie, though. Wanda really did want me to stop being a recluse after everything happened, and I really did want to spend as much time with you as possible. I’m not sorry for any of it, I’m just sorry that I made you think this was not as real to me as I wanted it to be for you.”

Your heart stutters in your chest at the serious, affectionate way he’s looking at you, just looking, like you’re the most important thing in the world to him at this moment.

“Please don’t be lying,” you whisper. Life has taught you that when something sounds too good to be true, it usually is. Still, it’s impossible to quell the small part of you that wants to believe something this incredible could happen, the small part that wants to be hopeful and believe that you could try to have something real here.

Pietro, at last, cracks a genuine smile for the first time that morning and wraps his arms loosely around your shoulders. “I’m not lying,” he tells you. “and I won’t ever again. I can promise you that much. If it is alright with you, I would very much like to kiss you now.”

Unable to help it, you laugh. “You didn’t seem to want to kiss me very badly last night, though? After I asked you to and everything.” you say teasingly. The weight of embarrassment easily slides off your shoulders, though you’re still self-conscious standing in front of him. You feel a million times lighter, and it feels like you could seamlessly fall back into that blissful place with him, to the exact same happiness you felt yesterday.

The blond has the audacity to flush bright red and look adorably embarrassed as he enthusiastically proclaims the exact opposite is the case. It gives you a sense of satisfaction to see _him_ flustered for once, as payback for all the times he’s made your heart hammer uncontrollably in your chest. “I did, _myshka_ , you have no idea– I just– I wanted to explain myself first, before we got to that point. I didn’t want to kiss you as your fake boyfriend, I wanted to kiss you as…”

“My real one?”

Pietro swallows thickly, nodding. When he sees the big toothy smile that spreads on your face, he can’t help but grin as well.

“Well, this certainly has been the most _elaborate_ way I’ve ever been asked out,” you sigh dramatically. “But since you asked so nicely…”

In a flash, Pietro’s lips are pressed against yours. His hands immediately drop to your waist, pulling you as close to him as he can manage, and slipping his fingers under the fabric. It is a far cry from that soft kiss he’d given you the night before; in fact, you can’t remember the last time you’d been kissed as soundly as this.

After a moment, you finally manage to pull yourself away. It takes another few to catch your breath, and you have to physically push Pietro away when he keeps drifting closer to continue pressing kisses to your parted lips, your cheeks, the side of your neck while you try to catch your breath. He guides your body by the hips backwards until he is able to lift you off your feet and onto the counter behind you, changing the angle but staying as close to you between your knees as he can.

“Pietro, wait,” you call breathlessly, trying to get his attention. He hums a soft moan at the back of his throat, but he manages to pull away from you, albeit reluctantly. His clear blue eyes are warm and half-lidded when they finally meet yours again. You tilt his face up to yours and kiss him once more, before pushing him back to an arm’s length away. “Alright, I think you should probably get going.”

There’s an expression of panic in his eyes before you quickly continue.

“I have to shower and get dressed, but you should come back in like an hour with some coffee. Then we can talk about where you’re going to take me on our first _real_ date. Okay?”

Pietro grins. “That sounds perfect, _myshka_. I’ll look forward to seeing you again soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thrilling conclusion.
> 
> So, uh, yeah *tugs collar* I'm really sorry this took forever to finish up. 
> 
> Usually when I write a series, I have to jam out the whole thing so I don't get burnt out (or fall out of love with my own premise) during the posting process. As you can tell, this feels pretty rushed. Half the draft has been sitting on my hard drive forever, and every time I looked at it I just felt so... blah. However, so many of you were so kind & wonderful & asking for more, I really didn't want to disappoint anyone and leave this unfinished forever... Originally I planned on doing another three chapters or so, but I just... lost momentum on this one. SO, I pushed through and this is where I landed. 
> 
> Anyway, sorry for ranting, I just wanted to try and explain myself a little. I hope you guys enjoyed this little fluff series, and I'm very excited to get to the next thing!


End file.
